


Cry for tonight, and I will be strong for the both of us.

by IAmTheNightman98



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brienne is comforting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jaime is hurt, Now complete, Season 8 reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheNightman98/pseuds/IAmTheNightman98
Summary: Jaime arrives in Winterfell exhausted and broken. He hadn't exactly expected a fanfare at his arrival, but he also hadn't expected to be shunned like an outcast. For the first time in his life, Jaime feels truly alone in the wold.So, he seeks comfort from the only person he has left.





	1. Chapter 1

The night air sent shivers down Jaime’s spine like he’d never felt before. He sat alone in the yard at Winterfell, nobody else was stupid enough to be out this late at night in the depths of winter. He pulled his cloak tightly around him, watching the remainder of the fire in front of him simmer down, feeling as though each separate dying ember had more life left in them than he did at that moment. 

He’d never felt so alone in his life, not even during the torturous year of being held captive by the Starks. At least during that time, he felt as though there was someone waiting for him. His father. The Kingsguard. His children. Cersei. But now there was nothing. All of it, gone.

The full realisation of what he’d done had dawned on him after he’d spent the best part of two days pleading his case to Daenerys. She’d tentatively accepted his warning, that Cersei planned on double crossing her, and allowed him to stay, on the condition if she heard so much as a rumour that he was disloyal to her, he would face an excruciating death at the hands of her dragons. At this point, he would probably welcome it. He’d given up everything he had left to join the fight in the North, which he knew was his only real option, but once he arrived in Winterfell he realised that when you have nothing left to fight for, it all seems so meaningless.

Daenerys had allocated him accommodation amongst the other soldiers, but he didn’t feel safe in there. He knew that the majority of them would risk their life just to kill a Lannister and he hadn’t traveled all this way just to be killed on his second night. So, here he was, for the second night in a row, staring at the fire in the yard, willing himself not to die from the cold.

Jaime supposed that his exhausted, delirious state was making him irrational, because all he wanted right now, more than a hot meal and a warm bed, was a conversation. The past four weeks had been the most lonely period of his life. He’d gone the entirety of his journey without speaking a word to another human being, left alone with the thoughts of how once again he had betrayed someone he swore to protect. Then, when he arrived he faced two days of being berated and treated like traitorous scum, even though he’d come purely with the intention of serving. 

He thought, painfully, about how there was probably only one person in the entire world aside from his brother who cared if he lived or died. 

Brienne. 

He tired not to think about Brienne too much, it caused him too much pain that he wasn’t quite equipped to deal with. She’d been the first person outside of his family that he truly loved. And he did love her. He wasn’t sure in what sense just yet, but he knew it was love. The kind of deep, unshakeable love that was born out of respect and even adoration. Their shared ordeal at Harrenhall had brought them closer than he thought possible to be with a person other than Cersei. He’d opened up his soul to her, left it uncovered for her to do as she pleased, and she’d shown him nothing but kindness and understanding. 

He’d watched her leaving him twice, once as she left King’s Landing, and again as she’d left Riverrun, and they were two of the hardest days of Jaime’s life, and now when they were finally back in the same place, he was too scared to find her, to reach out to her and tell her how much he was hurting. He couldn’t bare the thought that his only friend may turn her back on him, so by avoiding seeing her, he avoided an further pain and anguish. 

As he stared into the fire, he watched the last flames die, and with that, so did his resolve. Tears started streaming down his face for the first time in his adult life. He was alone. Freezing and dying. And nobody gave a damn. 

He needed to see her. 

Jaime used his stump to push himself off the log he was sitting on and used his left hand to pull his cloak tightly around him. His golden hand had been abandoned in a ditch somewhere on his journey to Winterfell. In hindsight, he knew that throwing away the hand was a bad idea as it would definitely make him more vulnerable in battle, but he couldn’t bare to look at Lannister gold for any longer. He thought that perhaps a peasant farmer may find it and use the gold to keep his family warm, clothed and fed for the rest of their lives. Then maybe if Daenerys were to kill him at Winterfell, he would at least have done a little good in the world before he died. 

As he approached the doors to the castle, he realised that he actually had no idea which room Brienne was in. For all he knew, she could be sleeping at the end of Sansa’s bed like a guard dog. He hoped that wasn’t the case, because he didn’t plan on crying in front of two women that night. 

He tentatively walked through the ground floor halls of the castle, as though he would just stumble upon Brienne’s room with blind luck, but eventually found the that candles were still burning from within the great hall. He walked close to the doorway an heard muffled voices coming from inside, one of which he recognised to be Sansa’s. He assumed that if Brienne were anywhere, it would be in here. He wiped his eyes with his left hand, hopefully removing any evidence that he’d been crying, and tentatively knocked on the door. 

There was nothing but silence for a moment, until Sansa spoke authoritatively. “Enter.” She said, not asking who it was first. Slowly, Jaime pushed open the door and entered the room. 

He saw Jon and Sansa huddled around various maps spread out over the table, but, much to Jaime’s disappointment, they were the only two in the room. As he entered, Jon’s hand moved to his waist, clearly itching to clasp around his sword, so Jaime held his arms up gently in defense. 

“I am unarmed.” He reassured them. 

Jon narrowed his eyes, but dropped his hand back down to his side. 

“Queen Daenerys isn’t here.” Sansa told him sternly. 

“I don’t wish to speak to Her Grace.” Jaime said softly, hearing his own voice shake. Gods, the exhaustion was really getting to him. 

“Then what do you want, Kingslayer.” Jon asked and Jaime winced at the revival of his nickname. 

Jaime felt as though his whole body was trembling and he couldn’t find the words to say what he wanted. What he wanted was comfort, and friendship and warmth, and someone to fucking tell him everything was going to be okay, but all he managed to croak out was, “Brienne.”

“She has retired for the evening. You can speak with her in the morning.” Sansa told him coldly. 

Jaime thought his eyes might fill with tears again, so he blinked to keep them at bay. He didn’t think he would survive another night here, outside in the cold. Logic told him he could just go back to the encampment he had been assigned to and wait out the night in what little warmth there was there, but every fiber of his being told him it had to be Brienne. 

“P-please.” Jaime stammered. He didn’t care how pathetic he sounded. 

“What is so urgent that it can’t wait until tomorrow?” Jon asked him, accusingly. 

Jaime didn’t know what to say to that. How could be possibly begin to explain that the reason he had to see Brienne was that he felt as though his life depended on it. He knew that there was no reasonable explanation, so he turned to Sansa before speaking next. 

“I have given up everything I’ve ever known to come to Winterfell, and now I’m here, I’m alone. And I’m afraid. Lady Sansa, I don’t claim to understand how hard your years in King’s Landing were, but I know you’re familiar with the feeling of being away from your home and needing a friend.” 

He knew that what he’d said was risky and that Sansa could turn on him instantly to comparing his struggles to hers, but if he wasn’t mistaken, her expression softened slightly. 

“Lady Brienne is my friend. I’ve missed her.” Jame said, his voice trembling.

Sansa looked at Jon, who said nothing, then looked back at Jaime. “Follow this hall down to its end and then take the staircase to the second floor, Lady Brienne’s chambers are behind the third door on the left.” 

Jon’s eyes went wide in surprise and he glared at Sansa, who raised her hand slightly to stop him from objecting, and Jaime felt like his knees might buckle beneath him. 

“Thank you, Lady Sansa.” He managed, turing to leave. 

“Ser Jaime.” She said, stopping him in his tracks. “If, when you get there, she doesn't want you there, then you leave. If she’s asleep, you leave. If she’s uncomfortable, you leave. If I find out that you upset or harm her in any way, I will kill you myself. Do I make myself clear?” 

Jaime nodded his head sheepishly. He hated being treated like some kind of animal who was about to ambush an unsuspecting woman in her sleep, but he truly admired the fact that Brienne was so protected here. Sansa nodded for him to leave and so he did, rushing as quickly as his exhausted, under nourished body would allow. 

When he reached her door he stood there for a few moments before knocking. He almost considered turning around and taking his chances back outside, out of a fear that she wouldn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t think he could take the rejection. Despite his fears however, he knew that if he could see the eyes of someone who didn’t look like they wished he were dead, then maybe, just maybe, everything would be fine. 

Slowly, he raised his left hand and tapped his knuckles on the door. To his surprise, the door opened instantly, and there she was, standing in front of him in a long cotton tunic and smiling. Well, she wasn’t frowning, which was pretty much Brienne’s way of smiling.

“I was wondering how long you would stand there before knocking.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Who else would be standing outside my door at this time of night, Jaime.” She said softly, and he felt tears brimming in his eyes once more. He thought back to all the times that he’d visited her during the night whilst she was in King’s Landing, since that was the only time they could talk properly. He visited under the guise of keeping her up to date on what he knew about the Stark girls, but mostly he just sought her company. After spending so much time alone with her, it had felt strange that when she wasn't the last person he spoke to before he went to sleep. He was about to ask if he could come in, but she stepped aside letting him enter. 

The warmth of the fire burning in her small room hit him immediately and he felt as though he might fall asleep where he stood. 

“You look dreadful.” She told him, clearly not intending it as a joke, as her eyes were full of concern. He shrugged his shoulders, cursing himself for being at a loss of what to say to the woman he’d been dreaming about speaking to for weeks. 

“You’re going to catch your death if you don’t warm yourself.” She said, which he knew was her way of telling him to get comfortable, but he didn’t seem to be able to move. He just stood there, staring at her, fearing that if he spoke he would start to cry. And if he started to cry he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

She took a step closer to him and gently pushed his cloak of his shoulders, draping it over the back of her chair. He felt a shiver run through his body, but it was quickly replaced by the feeling of warmth from the fire. She then began to unlace his armour, which he hadn’t dared remove, other than to bathe, since he arrived at Winterfell. 

When she’d removed his armour, she crossed the room to the set of drawers and came back with a change of clothes for him to wear. 

“I apologise if these aren’t to your taste, but it’s the best I can do.” She said, smiling as she handed to them. He took them gratefully, but couldn’t even choke out the word thank you before she turned around, giving him privacy to change. He silently thanked the gods that he’s washed since he arrived, as he wouldn’t want Brienne to have turned him away after the smell he’d amassed during his journey. Not that she would have, she’d seen him in worse states. But at least it meant he wasn’t dirtying her soft, clean clothing. 

He pulled his clothes off and dressed quickly, but the fire wasn’t enough to warm him any longer and her felt his entire body shivering. He didn’t know what to say once he’d finished changing, so he coughed slightly, letting her know she could turn around. 

When she turned back to face him, her eyes travelled the length of his body and she did nothing to hide her concern. He knew he’d lost a lot of weight on his journey, and his body looked weak. That combined with the fact that he’d been crying must’ve made him look like a bloody mess. 

“Jaime-” she started, but trailed off, looking down at her hands. 

“I don’t know what to say.” She admitted. “You’re usually the one that does most of the talking.” 

Jaime, smiled, recalling the early days of their companionship, when he would incessantly fire questions at her until he provoked her enough to talk to him.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite myself at the moment.” He said, which was quite possibly the biggest understatement of all time. “Thank you for helping me.” He said, referring not only to the clothes, but to the fact that he knew a large part of the reason he was still here was that Brienne had assured the Starks of his honour.

“That’s what we do for each other, you and I. We take care of each other.” She said quietly, and Jaime could no longer hold back the tears. Like a blubbering child, he felt his lip quiver and his cheeks dampen, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Her eyes widened, and she briefly looked like she might flee the room at the sight of a grown man crying, but instead she stepped forwards and wrapped him in a tight, suffocating embrace. He gently brought up his arms and wrapped them around her waist and dropped his head onto her shoulder, where he continued to cry. She didn’t speak for a long time, but she brought a tentative hand up to stroke the back of his hair. 

She didn’t try to calm him, she didn’t tell him everything would be okay, she just held him tightly as he sobbed. Jaime stood there, letting himself be held by the younger woman and release all the emotions that had been building inside of him.

When Jaime eventually calmed himself enough to stop crying, he thought that maybe he should feel embarrassed, but he knew there was no sense in being embarrassed in front of her. He stood against her for another moment, enjoying the feeling of her warmth, but eventually she pulled away and he could see that her cheeks were damp too. 

“You are a good man. You’re doing the right thing.” She told him, her hand curled gently around his bicep. Jaime nodded slowly. He was too exhausted for anything else. 

“Where have you been sleeping?” 

“I haven’t.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

“I was afraid for my safety in the camp, so I’ve been in the yard by the fire.” He admitted, looking away from her. 

“For two days?” She asked sternly. 

“Yes, aside from the time spent getting interrogated by Daenarys.” 

“That was very foolish. You could've- you could've died." She muttered and he could see the worry in her eyes. 

He nervously looked around the room. He supposed that she might think she was expected to ask him to stay, but he didn’t want to impose, or force her to do anything that would make her uncomfortable, so he thought about leaving. Although realistically, he knew there was no way his honourable, stubborn wench was letting him face the cold tonight. 

“I can sleep on the floor by the fire.” He told her. It may have sounded like he was trying to martyr himself, but just sleeping indoors and by a fire would likely be the best sleep he’d had since he left King’s Landing. “Do you have a spare fur?” He asked her, glancing over to her bed. 

“No.” She said, but quickly corrected herself. “I mean yes, you can use whatever furs and bedding you need. But you don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

“I can’t make you sleep on the floor in your own room.” He said, but as her face flushed with a deep red blush he realised what he had meant. 

“Oh.” He whispered. 

“Forgive me Jaime, I shouldn’t have-“

“Brienne.” He said softly, cutting her off and reaching his left hand out to gently caress her wrist. He went to open his mouth again, but he didn’t have to, as she wordlessly walked to the side of the bed and pulled back the furs. 

She got into the bed and moved up for him to slide in next to her. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he felt like he would fall asleep, but he turned to face her and willed himself to stay awake. 

“You don’t have to say anything. We can talk in the morning.” She whispered, as though she was suddenly afraid someone would hear them. He reached out his hand between the covers and found hers, interlacing their fingers, then, daringly, he shuffled closer to her. 

“You’re warm.” He sighed, moving as close as he could without actually touching her. 

She unlaced their fingers and shifted so that she was laying on her back, then glanced over at him. 

“Well?” She asked, gesturing with her head towards her shoulder, and Jaime thought his heart might burst. 

Without having to be told twice, he turned his head, bring his cheek down to rest it on her shoulder. He may have gotten a little carried away, slipping his arm across her waist and tucking his leg between hers, but she didn’t seem to mind. She curled both of her strong arms protectively around him and pressed the most delicate of kisses into his hair. He thought she might have been the greatest woman he’d ever met. 

“I love you.” He murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of her neck, feeling safe in her arms. A feeling he truly never thought he would feel again. 

“And I, you.” She whispered into the darkness, voice trembling. 

She then traced soothing, gentle patterns on his back with her fingertips as he fell asleep. For the first time since he’d left Kings Landing, Jaime felt like he’d had a reason to keep fighting. He had to battle the army of the dead. He had to defeat the Lannister forces. He had to stay alive. 

He had to do it all for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wakes up the morning after Jaime's emotional breakdown wondering what it will mean for the fate of their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explores how Brienne copes with Jaime's emotional fallout. Whilst the word depression is never used, symptoms of depression are discussed, so take this as minor trigger warning note.

The first thing Brienne felt in the morning when she woke up was the weight of Jaime, who was practically laying on top of her. She slowly blinked her eyes open, squinting as the first beams of the morning sun shone in through the gap in the curtains, and glanced down at Jaime, who had barely moved an inch since he fell asleep on her the night before. It had taken Brienne a while to fall asleep after Jaime did. She's just lain awake, holding him tightly, afraid that if she didn’t he might disappear and it would all have been a dream. 

Seeing Jaime standing on her bedroom doorstep had been one of the biggest reliefs she’d felt in a long time, as she’d spent the past two days since his arrival at Winterfell fearing that he had been avoiding her on purpose. In hindsight, she realised that he probably had been avoiding her, but since he was clearly teetering on the edge of a breakdown, she couldn’t fault him. 

The last time she'd seen him had been at the summit in King's Landing and she'd desperately tried not to think about him since. She truly thought that it could've been the last time she saw him, and it had ended with him brushing off her statement that what was at stake went beyond oaths. The thought was too much for her to bare and so she pushed it down into the deep recesses of her mind. 

When she'd heard that Jaime has arrived at Winterfell, it took every fibre of her strength to not fall to her knees there and then. He'd listened to her. Surely, there were other reasons for his change of heart, but she believed without a doubt that what she'd told him must've counted for something. When Jon Snow held a small council meeting regarding the fate of Jaime, she had been the first to advocate in his favour, assuring him wholeheartedly that he was not the man they all thought they knew.

Idly, Brienne raised her hand to play with Jaime’s hair, but then pulled it away swiftly when she realised he could wake up at any moment. Sure, last night when he’d been freezing and sobbing, holding him seemed like the only real option, but how would he react to her calloused, mannish hands gripping him in the harsh light of the morning.

There was also the issue of his confession of love to her. Frankly, love seemed to be too weak of a word for the bond they shared, which was why she hadn’t hesitated in saying it back, but there were a lot of other connotations which came with the word love, which she wasn’t sure she was ready to address. She loved him, she had done ever since Harrenhal, but was she in love with him?

Slowly, she tried to shift out of bed in a way that would not disturb him, so that they didn't have to confront the awkwardness of being intertwined together, but it turned out she needn’t have bothered as he didn’t ever stir. Once standing, she moved to draw back the curtains, but glanced back to Jaime’s sleeping, peaceful form and changed her mind, supposing there was no harm in letting him rest a while longer. 

She dressed quickly, fearing that he would wake up at any moment and see her in her smallclothes. Not that it would matter, since he’d seen her in her entirety at Harrenhal. As she lent down to lace up her boots she heard a faint knock at the door.

Fuck. It was Podrick coming to lace up her armour, as he did every morning before their training. How could she have forgotten?

“One moment, Pod.” She called softly, mindful of Jaime sleeping. 

She glanced around the room and decided that there was very little she could do to disguise the predicament she was in. Jaime’s clothes were in a heap the floor, his sword was on her desk and his armour was scattered about the room. Even if she managed to hide all of his things, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was snoring softly in her bed. She knew that it was more sensible in the long run for her to just be honest. It wasn’t like anything had happened anyways, and asking Pod to leave would just raise more questions. 

She gathered up her own armour and moved to the door with caution before speaking again. “Pod, I’m about to open the door and I’d be grateful if, when I do, you’d be so kind as to keep what you see between you and I. Do you understand?” 

“Um- My Lady, if you’re not dressed I can come back.” He stammered, and Brienne felt her cheeks flush red.

“That’s not it, Pod.” She hissed, pulling the door open. 

His eyes widened as he glanced between her and Jaime, but he quickly regained his composure and held out his hands for her armour. She swiftly left the room and pulled the door closed, then stood still for Pod to assist her. If he’d wanted to make a comment about Jaime, he’d had the good sense to keep it to himself. 

-x- 

Brienne spent her morning performing her usual duties, but could not get Jaime off of her mind. As she silently ate her breakfast in the hall, she wondered if he had eaten enough, or if she should take him food. During her hour of training with Pod, she wondered if he’d slept enough, or maybe too much. Maybe she should go and check? As she was distracted in thought, Pod almost managed to land a few jabs, so she quickly berated herself. They were on the eve of war and he deserved better training than the half hearted effort she was providing. 

Nevertheless, as she spent the rest of the morning sitting by Sansa’s side in a strategy meeting, she couldn’t stop the echoes of Jaime’s name bouncing around her mind, drowning out whatever Daenerys and Jon were saying. Brienne looked forwards to the moment when the meeting would be paused for lunch, then she could allow herself to think about Jaime without the accompanying guilt, perhaps she would even find time to go and see him? But when the time came, her relief was cut short when Sansa held her back as the rest of their company left the room. 

“Lady Brienne, why did Ser Jaime seek your company last night?” Sansa asked firmly. 

Brienne tightened her jaw and felt her eyes widen in surprise. “We hadn’t seen each other in a very long time.” Brienne told her calmly. 

“You were in King’s Landing not for weeks ago.” Sansa retorted quickly and Brienne felt the colour drain from her cheeks. 

“I um-” Brienne began, but Sansa cut her off. 

“Jaime hasn’t been seen today. He’s still in your chambers, isn’t he?” 

Brienne felt tears pricking at her eyes. “Lady Sansa. First and foremost I am loyal to you-” She tried, but Sansa cut her off again. 

“I know, Lady Brienne.” She said softly, taking a step closer. “All I ask is that you remain cautious. You believe him to be an honourable man, and I trust you are capable of making a sound judgement, but not everyone shares this opinion.” 

Daenerys. Jaime had killed her father, of course she didn’t trust him. Sansa was right, she had to be careful. Gods, she felt like a child getting lectured by her septa, but she also felt warmth in her heart at Sansa’s kindness. Compassion and understanding were two things Brienne had received very little of in her life. 

“Thank you, My Lady.” Brienne said gently, nodding her head. 

“Sansa.” The younger woman corrected. “You may call me Sansa.” Brienne felt like her heart would burst. Two emotionally charged encounters in two days was doing nothing for her composure.

“Lunch?” Sansa asked and Brienne nodded, following her out of the room. 

When Sansa entered the hall ahead of Brienne, she practically stopped in her tracks. “Gods.” Sansa muttered under her breath. It took Brienne no time at all to realise what she’d seen. 

Jaime was hunched alone in the far corner of a table at the edge of the hall, staring blankly at the bowl of stew in front of him. His eyes were dark, his cheeks were pale and blotchy, and Brienne could see that underneath his cloak and poorly laced armour, he was still wearing the bedclothes she had given him the night before. He looked small and broken. 

“Go to him. I will take my meal alone.” Sansa told her, but Brienne shook her head. She knew that if she sat with him people would stare. She didn’t care about herself, people stared at her all the time, but she knew that the last thing Jaime needed was to have any attention drawn to him. 

“Now is not the time.” Brienne said softly, and Sansa nodded her head in understanding. 

As she ate, all Brienne could think about was Jaime. She wished, for a moment, that she had no honour. If that were the case, she could abandon Winterfell in a heartbeat. She could take a horse and steal away with Jaime into the night to somewhere where nothing could harm them again. 

Most little girls had dreamed of being a princess in need of rescue, but at this moment, Brienne dreamed of being the knight, finally succeeding at protecting the one she loves. 

But Brienne prided herself on her honour. She’d sworn sacred oaths to the Stark girls and their mother and she would never, ever, forsake them. Not even if it meant watching the person she cared for most in the world waste away before her very eyes.

What she had to do was find a way to keep Jaime alive in Winterfell. Not just physically, but mentally, otherwise she may lose him for good. She had to talk to Daenerys, consequences be damned. 

-x- 

As she stood across from Daenerys, feeling her icy glare bore into her soul, Brienne began to regret her bold decision to request an urgent conversation with the Queen. 

“Your Grace, I come before you to voice a concern.” Brienne said firmly and the Queen nodded for her to continue. 

“Ser Jaime Lannister is not being utilised to the best of his abilities within your forces.”

Daenerys narrowed her eyes then muttered something in Valyrian to Missandei, which included the word Kingslayer, and Brienne fought the urge to shift nervously on her feet. Sansa had warned her not two hours ago about Daenerys’ distrust of Jaime and here she was voicing her support for him right to her face. But fuck, if she didn’t stand up for him, nobody would. 

“Lady Brienne, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you are not my adviser, nor are you Lady Sansa’s” She said coldly, and Brienne felt her hands trembling. 

“Perhaps if you could talk to Lord Tyrion-” 

“Lord Tyrion is away from Winterfell. Would you have me call him back, just to talk about Ser Jaime?”

“No, Your Grace.”

Brienne felt her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment and shame. She’d overstepped her mark and made a mistake.

“Jon and Sansa speak very highly of you. As does Arya, and Sandor Clegane, and the Commander of the Wildlings and just about every other person who’s encountered you. They speak of your honour and bravery, which I am beginning to realise for myself.”

Brienne tried to remain calm whilst Daenerys spoke, but she felt her lip quiver. 

“I will take your concern into consideration, you have my word.” The Queen told her, nodding her head firmly. 

“T-Thank you, Your Grace.” Brienne stammered. 

-x- 

Brienne felt dizzy from adrenaline for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. All she could think about was telling Jaime, she just had no idea where to find him. It wasn’t a good idea for her to start drawing attention to their closeness by asking after his whereabouts, so she had to settle for glancing anxiously around the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Eventually, she decided it was time to go to bed and that if he wanted to see her, he knew where she was, and she realised that Jaime must have thought the same thing, as when she reached her chambers she saw Jaime sitting on the floor in her doorway with his knees up to his chin. She panicked that someone might see him loitering around her chambers in the night and jump to false conclusions, so she rushed to him and quickly ushered him inside. 

“What are you doing?” She hissed as the door closed behind them, but he just shrugged blankly at her. 

“Are you alright?” She asked in a softer tone, taking a delicate step towards him, but he continued to look at the floor. “Did you eat today?” She tried again, but still he said nothing. She decided to give him a few moments of silence whilst she hung up her cloak, unlaced her armour and started a fire in the hearth. When she was done she sat down on the foot of the bed and gestured for him to join her. 

Gingerly, he sat down next to her, not meeting her eye. It was killing her to see him so broken. He was usually full of quips and jokes and energy. It reminded her of when he’d been close to death after he lost his hand. 

“I asked Daenerys to give you more responsibility within her army.” She told him, hoping it would lift his spirits. 

“You did what?” He snapped, swiftly turning his head to look at her. 

“I told her your skills were underutilised.” She explained.

“What will she think of me now? A pathetic little man who needs his woman to speak on his behalf. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I’m not a child” He sneered. She knew he wasn’t himself and was frustrated, but his comments still cut her deeply. How could he not see that she had been doing everything in her power to keep him safe since he arrived? He wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her. 

“Well then stop acting like one.” She yelled, tears pricking at her eyes. “You need to pull yourself together and start acting like a man because otherwise you will die here and I- I can’t -- I can’t take that Jaime. I can’t lose you. So just stop this.” She shouted. She very rarely raised her voice outside of battle, the words sounded so foreign coming from her. She’d regretted the words as soon as they’d left her lips. Gods, she truly was a nasty person like she’d told Pod. 

“Forgive me, Jaime-” She stammered, but he shook his head to cut her off. What had she done? 

“Don’t apologise.” He said softly. “You wouldn't have said it if you didn’t mean it.” 

She wanted to scream that he was wrong, but she knew that wasn’t true. She hadn’t meant those words exactly, but she was frustrated and hurting and struggling to cope with what was happening to him. Neither spoke for a moment, until Jaime let out a sigh. 

“I’m exhausted.” He told her, and she assumed that meant he would be staying with her again that night, despite what she'd said. Though honestly, she wouldn't have let him leave if he tried. She would've left herself before sending him back out into the cold. The though of him sitting alone, freezing and outside all night on his first night in Winterfell was enough to make her soul throb in pain. 

“Me too.” She admitted, moving to stand beside where he was sitting on her bed so that she could unlace his armour. He’d done a terrible job of tying it and she knew he would struggle on the tight knots he’d created otherwise. 

When she placed the last piece of armour onto the ground, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her stomach. Gently, she curled her arms around him too, as she felt his left hand cling onto the fabric at the back of her tunic. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

After a moment, she broke the embrace moving to get into bed and he trailed behind her. Laying face to face, with their heads on the pillow, Brienne fought the urge to reach up and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I am grateful for what you told the Queen.” He whispered, like she was the only person in the world. “I don’t deserve you.” He added softly. 

Brienne felt tears in her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. 

“I owe you my life. You’ve rescued me out of the goodness of your heart more times than I deserved.” Brienne wasn’t the best with words, but she hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him. “We will get through this, Jaime.”

“I really do love you.” He said, connecting his eyes with hers. He didn’t have to tell her again, she already knew without a doubt, but she relished in the warmth that followed his words. 

“Try to sleep.” She told him, reaching out to hold his hand beneath she sheets. Whilst reaching for his hand, she grazed the stump of his right wrist. He jolted away but she caught him, curling her fingers around his forearm gently. He needed to know that he needn't be ashamed of his injury around her. All of the humanity, understanding and growth that he gained on that day made up for what he had lost a million times over. 

"I love you." He muttered softly again before closing his eyes.

When they’d gone to sleep, they were facing each other on their sides, but by the time she woke up in the morning, they were a tangled mass of limbs once more. 

-x-

It had been one week since Jaime had first shown up at Brienne’s door and every night since, she had retired in the evening to find him sitting in the hallway outside of her chambers, waiting for her. After the second time, she stopped being surprised, and by the the fourth time she’d started going to bed a little earlier, so that he didn’t have to wait as long. 

She wasn’t sure where he went during the day, since Daenerys had not yet decided whether to give him a real rank within the army, so he didn’t really have anywhere to be. He was always still asleep when she left in the mornings, and occasionally she saw him across the room at mealtimes, but aside from that, he was like a ghost, moving around unseen in the chaos.

She was beyond minor concern for him, and starting to seriously consider calling for medical help. He slept a lot, ate very little and barely spoke at all. She recognised in him everything that her father had been through when her mother passed and it was near torture to see it again in someone she cared for so deeply. The only sign that there was still life in him, she thought, came out once they were in her bed together. He would nuzzle into the crook of her neck and slip his leg between hers, tucking himself against her like a small child. It was an odd juxtaposition to a grown man, a knight no less, to allow himself to be so vulnerable. 

She supposed that, in Jaime’s mind, it didn’t matter if she saw his vulnerability. He had nothing left to lose. 

That night when she saw him curled up on her bedroom doorstep, she let out a long sigh. She was trying to protect both of their honours by limiting the amount of people that knew about their sleeping arrangements to just Pod and Sansa, but if he kept this up there would be no point. 

“People will start to wonder where you are if you don’t stop running off all day.” She told him as she opened the door to let them both in. 

“Nobody cares where I am, Brienne.” He said blankly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

They’d settled in to a little routine over the past week. Brienne would take off her cloak and armour, then light the fire. Then she would help Jaime remove his armour too. They’d sit on the edge of the bed and talk for a few minutes, then they’d lay beneath the covers and fall asleep in eachothers arms. They were both too exhausted for anything else. 

She considered what he’d said for a moment whilst she tended the fire. Yes, it was likely true that other than her, nobody cared where he went. A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. 

“Lady Brienne. I have your water.” A handmaiden called. She looked to Jaime who’s eyes were wide in fear. 

“It’s ok. I sent for her.” She reassured him, walking towards the door. She let the handmaiden in and she left the large basin of hot water on her desk, staring at Jaime the entire time. 

“Ser Jaime is unwell. He will be staying in my chambers until he recovers. I trust we can rely upon your discretion on the matter.” Brienne told the girl, who nodded gently and hurried out of the room. She didn’t doubt that the girl would have told many people about Jaime being in her room before the nights end, but she didn’t care much.

“Here.” She said to him, gesturing towards the basin, pulling out a rag and soap from her desk drawer. She knew he hadn’t washed properly since his first night in Winterfell. It was far too cold to sweat, but a wash would serve him well regardless. Luckily, she didn’t have to tell him twice and he moved to stand next to the desk, allowing her to remove his armour. 

She crossed the room to sit on the other side of the bed as he shrugged off his tunic which left him standing in just his breaches. There wasn’t much privacy that the small room could afford, so this would have to do. She could hear the periodic, soft swishes of the rag in the water as he cleaned, and she prayed to the gods that it was helping him. 

After a few minutes she heard the sound of water splashing to the floor and Jaime muttering profanities. She turned around swifty to see Jaime hunched over the basin unsuccessfully attempting to scoop water onto his hair. 

“Shut up.” He muttered. 

“I didn’t say anything.” She reminded him, standing up and walking towards him. She pulled the chair out from under the desk and turned it around, motioning for him to sit down. He looked like he was about to protest, but he slumped his shoulders in defeat and sat down anyways. 

“Lean back.” She said, guiding his head so that the back of his neck rested on the edge of the basin. Once he’d relaxed slightly, she began to scoop the water onto his hair. Combing her fingers through Jaime’s tangled locks seemed to awaken an almost maternal instinct that Brienne never knew she had. The intimacy, yet purity, of the situation caused a dull ache in her chest. 

She lathered up a small amount of soap in her hands and worked it through the hair. As she dragged her nails gently along his scalp she saw his eyelids softly flutter shut, she wondered if she’d ever seen another person so peaceful in her presence. Brienne was no fool, she knew that her stature and demeanor was intimidating so some and downright off putting to others, so it felt strange to feel like such a caregiver. 

She drew out the process of rinsing his hair for as long as she dared, then found him a towel to dry himself.

As he dressed behind her, she used the water to wash some of her clothes. She’d been using her own things to make sure Jaime was well clothed, so she was getting through her clean clothes twice as quickly as usual, not that she minded. She would probably give him everything she owned if he’d take it. Well, maybe not everything. She discreetly washed her smallclothes, which was the one thing she hadn’t been sharing with Jaime, and then laid everything out to dry.

Later that night, Brienne lead in bed clutching Jaime against her chest, running her fingers through his soft clean hair while he slept. At least, she thought he was asleep. 

“Nobody came.” He whispered. She thought about pulling her hand away from his hair, but she’d already been caught in the act, so it would make little difference. 

“What do you mean?”

“You told the handmaiden that I was sick and nobody came. They didn’t send a meister or anyone to help you.”

“It’s winter, lots of people are getting sick. Perhaps the meisters are busy.” She halfheartedly reassured him. 

He paused for a moment, sighing deeply before speaking again. “That’s not the reason.” 

She thought about lying and promising him that he was valued in Winterfell, but what good would that do when they both knew the truth. She was all he had. 

“No, it’s not.” She sighed. After a few moments, Jaime shifted his head and brushed it against her hand and she smiled lightly, assuming it meant he wanted her to stroke his hair again. She gladly obliged, stroking her nails against his scalp as she had done earlier.

Before too long, Jaime was snoring softly and Brienne was left with her thoughts once more. She was determined that the next morning she would approach Daenerys once again and beg for her to give Jaime a purpose for being here. 

-x-

It turned out that Brienne needn’t have got herself so worked up in anticipation of requesting a second meeting with Daenerys as, after her training with Podrick, she was summoned by one of the Queen’s men. 

“I have given some time and thought to your proposal, Lady Brienne.” Daenerys spoke calmly and Brienne nodded for her to continue. 

“We are on the fringes of what may be the most arduous war that most men will ever see in their lives. Our armies need all the strength we’ve got and I would be a fool to allow a military man’s experience to be wasted.” 

Brienne’s heart swelled with pride as the Queen spoke and she was at a loss for what to say.

“He will train the women and children of Winterfell in self defence.”

And there was the catch. The Queen obviously had no intention of giving Jaime any real power. She wished to make a mockery of him. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but Ser Jaime is one of the most skilled fighters in Westeros. He was a member of the Kingsguard and-”

“Ser Jaime is a one handed traitor who backstabbed his own sister and killed my father.” Daenerys yelled, shocking Brienne into silence. “Of course, you will see to it that Ser Jaime is in a fit state to train first.” 

Brienne realised as the Queen was talking that by speaking up for Jaime, she had made herself responsible for him and if he stepped out of line, she’d placed the target on her own back. Nevertheless, this may be the only real opportunity she had to make some progress with him, so she decided to take it in her stride. 

She thanked Daenerys and swiftly left the room, understanding what she had to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the update. Thanks to everyone who commented inspiring me to turn what was supposed to be a one shot into a longer piece!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high whilst Jaime and Brienne prepare for immanent war, but will he manage to tell her how he feels before its too late?

Jaime was forcefully awoken by the sound of knockin and it took him a moment to realise that the sound was coming from the door, not from the soft thump of his seemingly constant headache. He realised that someone must’ve been looking for Brienne, since this was her room after all, and so he kept silent in the hopes that they would leave. 

“It’s me.” He heard Brienne call softly. He found a true testament to her character that the woman was so cautious and honourable, she was knocking on her own bedroom door. 

He thought she might knock again, but she pushed the door open causing the room to flood with light. Jaime grumbled slightly and pulled the bedding up over his head. Why couldn’t she just leave him to sleep like she did every day? His daily routine consisted of laying in Brienne’s bed as late into the day as he could bare, wandering around the outskirts of Winterfell until he felt like his nose would freeze off, then sneaking back upstairs to wait on her doorstep until she came to bed. Some days he would eat. He didn’t bother anybody and nobody bothered him. 

“Get up.” He heard her tell him, but he didn’t even move in response. He just wanted her to turn around and leave. 

“I said get up.” She told him again, this time more firmly, pulling the furs from over his head. Panicked from the sound of urgency in his voice, he stood quickly, feeling a deep chill as the last of the blankets fell away. 

“Get dressed.” She said, tossing one of her thicker tunics towards him, which he gratefully accepted as he felt an ice cold chill in the air. He frantically searched her eyes for a sign that everything was alright. 

“What’s happening?” He asked her, scrambling to find his boots. He feared that the army of the dead, or maybe Cersei’s forces were about to take Winterfell at any given moment. He wasn’t ready. 

“I’m taking you to the training yard.” She told him, picking up the breastplate of his armour and passing it towards him and he narrowed his eyes in scepticism. What purpose would training have? 

The thought of going out to the training yard was enough to make Jaime want to hide back under the covers. “People will stare.” He muttered, shrugging away as she tried to hand him the armour. He couldn’t bare the thought of being mocked and taunted. 

“I don’t care. You aren’t hiding in here forever. There’s work to be done.” She insisted, pushing the armour more forcefully this time. 

Lamely, he pulled on the various pieces, fumbling with the clasps and laces. He was grateful that she didn’t try to help him, he felt embarrassed enough that she had to unlace his armour in the evenings. Honestly, he could probably just start tying the laces in a way that meant the knots were easy to unfasten, but he knew that he’d miss the feeling of being cared for by Brienne, even if it was just a small way. When she’d washed his hair the night before, he truly thought that, given the chance, he would stay in that moment forever. 

Before they left her room, she picked up his sword holster which held Widow’s Wail and handed it to him, then, like a sullen child, he trudged down to the training yard behind her. 

As he walked through the castle and into an abandoned corner of the yard, he felt as though all eyes were on them and shrunk awkwardly into himself. In reality, it was likely that nobody gave them a second glance, but it didn’t stop him from feeling so exposed. 

“Draw your sword, Ser Jaime.” She said, turning towards him and pulling Oathkeeper from her belt. His spirit lifted slightly when he recalled the look on her face when he’d first gifted her his sword, but it swiftly fell once more when he realised she’d called him Ser. Clearly she didn’t want anyone listening in to assume they were more than mere acquaintances.

He stared at her blanky for a moment before she spoke again. He didn’t want to do this. The best fighter in Westeros and a dishonoured cripple sparing, with Valyrian steel swords no less. They would be a laughing stock. 

“Are you afraid I will beat you again?” She sneered, stepping closer. He knew she was trying to provoke him to anger so that he would fight, but he was determined not to cave. 

“I’m beginning to think you’ve forgotten how to fight, Ser Jaime.” She taunted again, swerving her sword and adjusting her stance. 

Jaime still continued to stare at her, flinching away when she got close. 

“Show me that you’re strong enough.” She said softly, connecting her eyes with his, and he knew that the statement was rich with meaning. His first thought was of the time during his time as her captor when he had told her he was strong enough to fling her down and tear off her clothing, but that was swiftly replaced by what he thought she truly meant. 

She wanted him to show her that he was strong enough to survive this war. She was just as scared that he was, that he might not have what it takes. For both of their sakes he had to prove that he was ready. 

Swiftly, he drew his sword from its holster and collided it with hers and a small smirk crossed her face, that was quickly replaced by a look of concentration and determination. 

They clashed their swords together tamely a few times to warm up and Jaime felt his heart pumping life into his veins for the first time in weeks. He noticed that she was holding a lot back and was determined to push her further. 

After a few minutes of restrained clashes, she lunged aggressively towards him. Her sword was at least a foot to the left of his body, presumably since she didn’t actually wish to hurt him, but the surprise was enough to make him stumble backwards. Luckily he managed to stable himself before he fell and was able to thrust back at her, but not before he noticed the glint of amusement in her eyes. 

Fighting with Brienne made Jaime feel so alive. So free. As they spared he felt a desire awaken in him to keep pushing. Keep moving. He wanted to survive. He also couldn’t help but take in how gorgeous she looked. It was like her body was designed by the gods with the sole purpose of being a warrior.

As he lurched forwards, distracted by his thoughts, she got the upper hand and kicked his leg out from under him, causing him to fall onto his back and drop his sword in the process. From his vantage point, he was able to swing a swift kick into the back of her knee, causing her to tumble down too. 

She landed on top of him and her sword fell just inches away from his head. Grunting in pain and she glared down at him angrily. “That was incredibly dangerous, Jaime.” She snapped. 

He expected her to end their sparring session, or make him fight with a wooden sword on account of his recklessness with dangerous weapons., but instead she shifted her legs so that she straddled him and wrestled his arms above his head, pinning him to the ground. Evidently, their fight was still on.

He tried to use his legs and hips to trust her off him, but to no avail, she was far stronger than him whilst he was in his weakened state. He knew there was no way he could break free, but he enjoyed the feeling of her weight on top of him, so he kept up the guise of struggling for a few moments longer. Once he relaxed his body, indicating his defeat, she released his wrists and moved to sit beside him to catch her breath. 

As she sat by his side panting softly, she flashed him a sly grin and he thought about how the scene resembled a pair of lovers in post coital bliss. He hadn’t thought about sex since long before he left Cersei, but he couldn’t deny the twinge of excitement that ran down his spine. 

“Round two?” She asked, standing and offering her hand to help him up. 

“I’m a weak, old man, Brienne. You’ll have to give me a few more minutes to recover, I’m afraid.” He said, sitting up and resting his hands elbows on his knees. He thought that might have been one of the longest sentences he’d said aloud in a few days.

“You’re nothing of the sort.” She told him matter of factly, quirking her eyebrow in challenge. After a moment, she must’ve realised that he wasn’t joking and truly did need a moment to recover, she took her water pouch from the ground and handed it to him, which he took gratefully.

She sat on the edge of a nearby wall, watching him as he stood up and stretched out his aching muscles. 

“The Queen would like you to train the women and children of Winterfell in self defense.” 

Jaime knew this was the Queen’s way of making a mockery out of him, but he truly didn’t care. He was so grateful for Brienne, knowing that she must’ve risked a lot to request a position of responsibility for him. 

“When do I start?” He asked, sitting on the wall beside her and passing back her water. 

“As soon as you feel you are able. The battle is iminent.” She sold him softly, causing a chill to run through Jaime’s body. Whilst they were sparing, he’d forgotten all about the coming war. She turned to face him before speaking again. 

“I know that you are capable of greater things but-” 

He cut her off by resting his gloved hand over hers on the wall between them. “I am grateful. You don’t need to explain.” He told her softly. 

He looked into her eyes and she looked back at his, neither of them saying a word. He swore he could hear the snowflakes fall it was so silent. He saw her swallow nervously and then, for a fraction of a second, he glanced down at her lips. But as soon as the moment had begun, it was over and she stood up from the wall, pulling her hand away from his. 

“Round two?” He asked her awkwardly, standing up and brushing down his tunic. 

“I think I ought to make sure I’m not needed by Lady Sansa.” She said, stepping away from him slightly. 

“Oh. Yes, okay.” He told her, trying to hide his disappointment. 

As she told him goodbye and swiftly left the training yard, he felt his shoulders fall in defeat. He knew that before too long him and Brienne would have to have a conversation about what was happening between them, but he wasn’t ready. Still, determined not to let his awkward blunder ruin the rush of adrenaline he’d felt from wielding his sword, he decided he would find something useful to do with his day for once. 

Eventually he decided that chopping firewood for the keep would be a suitable activity. He could work on building up his strength whilst not being required to actually talk to anyone. 

He made his way to the clearing just outside of Winterfell where he’d seen men chopping wood on one of his daily wanders and walked up awkwardly. He’d expected to be told to go fuck himself, but the man in charge simply looked him up and down, thrust him spare axe and gestured to a pile of unchopped logs. 

“So, you’re Jaime Lannister?” A boy around the age of ten asked him after around ten minutes of uninterrupted chopping. Well it was good whilst it lasted. Surely that child was too young to be chopping logs anyways? Winterfell must really be desperate.

“The one and only.” Jaime grunted, bringing his axe down to collide with one of the logs in front of him. 

“I’m Aiden.” The boy said, seemingly being unphased by being in the presence of most likely one of the most hated men in the North, but Jaime didn’t reply. He hadn’t come here for chitchat with a child.

“What’s Kings Landing like?” 

“A lot warmer than here.” Jaime snapped and the boy laughed. 

“Can you see the sea in King’s Landing? I think I’d like to see the sea. And a dragon. I’d like to see one of those too. Have you seen a dragon?” The boy asked in rapid succession, not giving Jaime a chance to answer. Not that he would’ve anyways.

“So, have you seen a dragon?” The boy asked again, clearly not understanding that Jaime wanted to be left alone. 

“I’ve heard that one of the dragons has two heads. And that the Queen can control them with her mind. Is that true?” The boy prattled on and Jaime groaned in frustration. 

“Don’t you ever shut up.” Jaime yelled, shocking the other men in the clearing into silence briefly. He got ready to make an apology and leave out of embarrassment of losing his temper at a child when one of the men spoke again.

“I wouldn’t chop near that one if I were you.” One of the older men called to him. “He’ll talk your fucking ear off.” He said, causing the other men to laugh.

After a few moments, the laughter died down and the men went back to chopping their respective logs. The child continued to fire questions at him, most of which he ignored, but for a brief moment, Jaime felt accepted. He felt as though he was finally starting to become one of the residents of Winterfell. Part of a team, rather than just an outsider.

-x-

That evening, Jaime waited on the floor outside of Brienne’s bedroom as he did every evening. Even though she left him there sleeping every day, and so must’ve been fine with him being in there alone, it felt so intrusive to enter without permission. 

Eventually, he heard her footsteps walking down the corridor and so he stood to greet her. She smiled softly at him, as she opened the door and let them both inside. Before she had the chance to, he set about lighting the fire. He was done letting Brienne do everything for him. He needed to prove to her that he was still a man. 

As he attempted to light the fire, she changed out of her clothes into what she wore for bed, and he was acutely aware of the fact that she was almost naked behind him. He’d never thought much of it before, but evidently their sparing had awoken more within him than just a need to fight. 

“You know, there’s no reason for you to wait outside every night. It’s just a room. And it’s just as much yours as it is mine.” She told him, casually taking the poker from his hand and fixing his poor attempt at creating a fire. 

In that moment, Jaime realised that he’d been a fool to cheapen his bond with Brienne by thinking about his body’s physical reaction to her. Their dedication to each other transcended that of a flame between two lovers. And whilst it may have been true that he wanted nothing more than to carry her to bed and show her how much of a man he was, she deserved so much more than him. 

He had most likely overexerted himself during the day, because once the fire was lit and the room filled with warmth, he found a wave of exhaustion crash over him.

For some reason, he felt a lot more self conscious in her, well their, bed that night. As he looked at her laying on her back with her eyes closed and her arms ever so slightly open towards him, he felt slightly unsure about whether he should tuck himself into her as he usually did. 

Deciding that she would probably appreciate a night without his weight crushing her, he rolled away to lay on his side and face away from her. He regretted it instantly. Laying in bed without her arms around him felt wrong. He was alone, cold and exposed. He balled his fist in frustration and anger at himself. Why has he allowed himself to overthink things and ruin something so innocent and pure?

After a little while when he thought surely that Brienne would’ve been asleep, he considered turning around to face her and burying himself in her embrace, but before he could turn he felt her hand grip his elbow. 

“You’re thinking too loudly. Go to sleep.” She grumbled. Her hand on his elbow was replaced by her strong forearm curling around his waist, pulling him gently towards her. He shuffled backwards into her, sighing in content as he felt her warm breath on the back of his neck. 

Once back in her arms, he found himself able to fall asleep with no trouble at all. 

The following morning, he awoke to the sound of Brienne getting dressed on the other side of the room. Usually, when he heard Brienne dressing in the morning he would pull the furs up over his head and go back to sleep for another few hours, wallowing in his fragile emotional state, but today he found himself with a new found desire to get up and face the day. 

“Morning.” He mumbled sleepily, sitting up in bed and glancing towards her, considering instantly that he perhaps should’ve checked if she were dressed first. She stood for a moment gawping at him, with her tunic unfastened, exposing her underclothes, which were so sheer they left very little to the imagination.

“Jaime!” She yelled , bringing her hands up to cover her breasts. It was nothing he hadn't seen at Harrenhal, but as with everything that happened between them recently, this time it seemed so much different somehow. 

“Sorry.” He stammered, turning away from her swiftly. Once she was fully dressed he turned to her and mumbled another awkward apology. 

“You don’t usually wake up so early.” She told him, most likely trying to justify why she was half undressed in the middle of the room. 

“I have things to do.” He shrugged, getting out of bed and pulling on his own clothes. 

“I think I preferred it when you slept all day.” She teased as she laced up her boots, but he could see the unmistakable affection in her eyes.

Jaime was about to reply when there came a knock from the door, which was presumably Podrick there to perform his squiorly duties, but before Brienne could stand he moved to the door and opened it himself. 

“Ser Jaime.” Podrick said in surprise, clearly expecting Jaime to be in bed as he usually was. 

“Pod, from now on I will be assisting the Lady with her armour. She will meet you at the training yard.” Jaime told him, before he had the chance to change his mind. 

-x- 

The next two weeks passed in a dreadful haze of anticipation for the coming war. He spent hours upon hours training the women and children of Winterfell in self defence as Brienne prepared to leave with the soldiers. It felt beyond wrong to Jaime that she would be leaving, taking the fight further North, whilst he had to stay behind. 

He worried for her life every day. He fell to his knees in front of Daenerys and begged her to let him join Brienne’s forces when they travelled North but she’d told him no. It was of utmost importance that Brienne remain without distractions so that she could work effectively. She hadn’t hesitated to remind him that Brienne was far more important than he was and so she would not be risking her life for the sake of his hurt pride. 

He didn’t know how to explain that his anguish was over far more than simply not being allowed to fight with the best of the forces, he needed to be there in case- In case she died. If Brienne were to fall in battle and he wasn’t there at her side it would be the end of his life as he knew it. Similarly, if he were to perish whilst defending Winterfell and hers wasn’t the last face he saw, it would all have been for nothing. 

Nevertheless, Daenerys recognised his skill and, to a lesser extent, his honour, and appointed him as Sansa’s hand for the fortification and defense of Winterfell. He knew the role was somewhat meaningless, as anyone skilled would be travelling North, and anyone, other than Sansa, who was important yet unable to fight in battle would be travelling South to stay safe, but he still took very seriously the responsibility of protecting everyone who would be left behind in his care. 

Today, he would be conducting some of the final checks in the grounds of Winterfell in preparation for the troops imminent departure. He needed to ensure that every entrypoint was secure and that everyone who would staying understood the exit strategy and had access to weapons. 

As he approached the group of young boys who had been helping him distribute the weapons, he felt an aching sadness in his chest. They were so young and frail and likely would all perish during the war. 

“What are you doing standing around? There’s work to be done” He barked, sending all but one scurrying off in different directions. The child who remained, Jaime recognised from the woodchoppers circle a few weeks prior. 

“Aiden, come on.” Jaime snapped, gesturing for him to follow the other boys, but he recoiled when he saw the boy crying. 

“The soldiers will be leaving soon.” Aiden said, wiping a tear from his eye. Jaime fought the urge to yell at him. Yes, he knew they would be leaving soon. That she would be leaving soon. He didn’t need the reminder. 

“My father.” The boy whispered, and Jaime assumed that meant they boys father was a soldier. He felt an almost overwhelming pang of sadness, not that it mattered. It was likely that neither father nor son would survive the war.

Jaime sighed and looked at the boy before speaking again. “Did I ever tell you about when I saw the dragons?” He asked, and the boy shook his head. 

“They’re magnificent creatures. Bigger than anything you could imagine. They took out hundreds of my army’s men in single swoops.” Jaime told him, wincing in pain as he recalled that horrific day. “They will protect our soldiers in the fight against the dead. I swear it.” 

“Aren’t you afraid too?” The boy asked. “For your wife?” Jaime’s face darkened as he thought the boy may have been asking about Cersei, but softened when he realised he was talking about Brienne.

“Lady Brienne is not my wife.” Jaime said sadly, but could understand why people may think she was, due to the amount of time they spent by each other's side.

Two nights ago, as he lay awake, his body entertwined with hers, he’d thought about waking her up and asking for her hand in marriage. He wanted to spend what could be his last few months on this earth being joined to her before the gods, even if he didn’t understand the exact nature of their relationship. But, as the wind howled outside their window and she pulled him tightly against her chest, he talked himself out of the idea. 

He was completely and utterly hers. There was no doubt in his mind that she already knew that. They didn’t need any ceremony to confirm their unbreakable bond. Though idly, he had wondered that if she had married him, what it would feel like to kiss his blushing bride. But alas, it was not meant to be, so he settled for planting a chaste peck on her cheek, ever so slightly grazing the corner of her lips whilst she slept soundly. He could’ve sworn he felt her smile in the darkness.

Jaime was snapped out of his thoughts by the boy speaking again. “Still, aren’t you worried?” Aiden asked. 

“No. I’m not worried.” Jaime lied. “I’m sure they will be just fine.” 

-x- 

That evening, as he wearily dragged himself down the corridor towards their room, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep in Brienne’s arms, shutting out the entire world. He’d spent the day wrapped up in thoughts about what may happen in a few short day when she would have to leave and he wanted to make the most out of every moment they had left. 

As he pushed the door to their bedroom open, his heart dropped into his stomach. She was sitting on the desk chair staring blankly into the fire, her cheeks raw from tears. Her cloak and armour were on the floor beside her, but she had both hands clasped around Oathkeeper, which rested in her lap. 

“No.” Jaime stammered, pulling the door shut, unable to move any further. “No, no, no.” He trembled, drawing his hand up to his mouth. 

“We leave at dawn.” She whispered, not meeting his eye. 

“Fuck.” Jaime yelled, turning and colliding his first with the door frame. This couldn’t be happening. He felt the tears spilling down his cheeks without warning. 

He wasn’t ready. 

He turned back to face Brienne, who hadn’t moved her eyes from the fire. He felt his heart tear in two at the sight of the solitary tear rolling down her cheeks.. Slowly, he crossed the room towards her and took her hand, gently pulling her off the chair to stand and face him. 

“Jaime,” She said, her voice breaking. “I’m so afraid.” 

He wanted to tell her it would be okay, that they would survive the war and then afterwards for many many years to come, but he didn’t. They both knew how much danger they would be in from that point onwards. 

He pulled her into his arms and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. She didn’t cry. She just breathed slowly and deeply as he tightened his grip on her. He thought about that first night, and the weeks that followed. She’d held him through his pain and he didn’t doubt that the only reason she was still alive was because of her. It was now his turn to step up and prove that he was strong enough to do the same for her. And he was terrified. 

He released her from his grip and, with trembling fingers, he guided her to the edge of the bed. He pulled back the covers and she hesitated slightly before getting in, but then laid down and shuffled up to make room for him. Jaime then made hasty work of kicking off his boots, armour and thick outerwear before getting into bed with her.

Once in bed, he lay on his side facing her, then slowly pulled up the blankets so that they covered both of their heads. In the darkness, he could pretend that they were in their own little world where nobody could harm them. He could feel her warm breath against his face and he heard the unmistakable sound of a suppressed sob. 

“Whatever happens.” He whispered softly. “I am yours. I will always be yours.”

As he spoke he felt her cold fingers brush against the top of his thin shirt, gently grazing the skin of his throat. His breathing quickened as she delicately skimmed his collarbone. He shuffled closer so that he could rest his forehead against hers, feeling her breath on his skin. 

“I love you so-” He started to say, but was cut off. She balled her hand into a fist, gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulled him towards her, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. 

He kissed her back with as much passion as he could muster, curling his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. He darted his tongue against her lip and her mouth fell open instantly, allowing him entry. He kissed her frantically, as though he was his salvation. 

Kissing Brienne was everything that he dreamt it would be. He assumed that this was her first kiss, but it seemed that instinctively she knew what to do. She moaned into his mouth as he pushed her gently backwards into the pillow and leant above her. He pulled back with a jolt however when he realised that he felt tears on his cheek that definitely weren’t his own. 

“Don’t stop.” She said softly, moving her hand to the back of his head and gently tugging him towards her. He kissed her softly for a moment before pulling away again.

“You’re crying. I can’t. Not like this.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. In all honesty, he thought he might cry too. 

“Please, Jaime.” She said, her voice breaking. And gods, he wanted this so badly, so he dropped his lips against hers once more. 

As they kissed, she moved her hips slightly so that he could rest between her legs. He curled his left hand around the back of her head, cradling her gently. When she arched her back and raised her hips to grind against him softly he groaned, dropping his lips to her neck.

“Are you sure?” He asked, pulling back to look into her damp, glistening eyes. 

“I’ve never been more sure. This may be our last chance.” She said hoarsely, and Jaime felt his own tears spilling down his cheeks. With that, he moved to kiss her again. 

He pulled back to tug his shirt off over his head and tossed it away, then moved his fingers to the edge of her tunic. He looked up into her eyes for confirmation that he could continue and she nodded at him slowly, so he sat up slightly, and slowly pulled the garment over her head, followed by her thin vest. Before she could lay back down, he hooked his arm around her shoulder, lowering her onto the bed himself. 

He took a moment to take in her naked form lying beneath him and she moved to cover herself with her arms. 

“You’re magnificent.” He told her, causing a fresh set of tears to spring from her eyes. 

He slowly unlaced her breeches and pushed them down, followed by his own, then looked into her eyes one last time before continuing and as she nodded her head, he moved to place soft, open mouthed kisses along her jaw. 

He made love to her slowly, but was scared to hurt her and anxious about making the experience enjoyable for her too, which made him cautious and somewhat uncoordinated. 

He tried to push the thought away, but it was so much different from when he’d been with Cersei. It seemed as though, with Brienne, love making was less about the act itself and more about the intense, raging connection between them. It was beautiful.

They kissed through to the end, and as heard her breath come in ragged gasps, he pulled out of her and finished on her stomach. He grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor to wipe up the mess, then lay back on the bed, pulling her down into his chest. 

Neither of them spoke for a long time. He held her tightly against him and felt her tears dropping onto his bare skin. He’d wanted this for so long and it was so much more perfect than he could’ve imagined. It seemed like a cruel taunt from the gods that the moment she’d become his, she would be leaving.

“My love for you goes beyond that which I thought possible.” She said softly and he dropped a tender kiss onto her forehead. 

“I will think of you every minute of every day from when you leave until when we meet again.” He choked out, moving his hand to brush away her tears.

She raised her head to look him in the eyes. “Promise me.” She stammered. “Promise me that you will stay alive.” 

“I will stay alive, for you.” He told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is becoming way longer than the one-shot I had originally intended it to be and it is now officially longer than my undergraduate dissertation. 
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated and many thanks if you've managed to stick with me so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Jaime had to tell himself to take the war one day at a time. Just one day. If you just make it through today, he told himself, then you’ll be okay. She will be okay. Soon the days turned to weeks, and the weeks into months. And miraculously, they were still alive.

 

He thought about her every day, it was like torture. He thought about the aspects of her that only he knew, like it was his own perfect little secret. The way her strong, almost masculine hands could become as delicate as feathers in the darkness. The soft quirk of her lips that almost resembled a smile. Some nights, after a particularly successful day, when Jaime was feeling a rush of adrenaline, he would think about her soft moans from the night he’d made love to her. Their last night together. 

 

Being in Winterfell was far more difficult than he anticipated it would be. Food rations were low and he saw the terrified faces of the women and children in his care becoming gradually more gaunt and sunken. What surprised him though was his newfound ability to give genuine, effective care to those who depended on him. It made him feel a pang of guilt for his three lost children, who he’d struggled to show a fathers love. But he was spurred onwards by the knowledge that he was finally righting his wrongdoings. 

 

One of the most unexpected elements of his stay at Winterfell was his growing friendship with Sansa. As her Hand and the protector of Winterfell, he spent most of each day with her and in the beginning she had been very forthcoming in the fact that she disliked him. However, when everyone else you considered to be a friend was away fighting, there became very few places to turn to for comfort.

 

Jaime believed that their friendship grew from the moment that she received the first raven, about two weeks in to the war, informing them of the current whereabouts and death tolls of the allied armies. He placed a firm, comforting hand on her shoulder as she trembled and unrolled the scroll, they both knew that all they really cared about what whether the people they loved were still alive. Once the note was read aloud and they realised Brienne, Jon and Arya were still standing, she shrugged his arm away from her and told him to leave, but the following week, when they received further news, she requested that he joined her. 

 

He hated the days of anticipation leading up to when they received updates from the battle. The crushing anxiety and dread he felt as he watched Sansa unroll the message, as he internally prayed to the gods he didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t see Brienne’s name, was almost unbearable. He knew that if he saw Brienne’s name amongst the list of the deceased, there would be very little chance of him finding the will to continue. Five months in to the war and that moment never got any easier. 

 

On one occasion, around two months back, he had seen the name Tarth and thought he may die where he stood, until he realised the name. Selwyn Tarth. Her father. His heart ached for her tremendously, knowing that she would only find out when she got back after half a year of being at war. 

 

They had received news yesterday, everyone was exhausted and weary, but still alive, and so Jaime allowed himself a sense of positivity during his daily rounds of Winterfell. There were tentative rumours that the army of the dead were getting pushed further and further back each day and that the Lannister army was almost defeated. It made him sad to think about the fates of the Lannister men, many of which would’ve served under Jaime, but he knew that almost two thirds of them had had the good sense to abandon the force and travel North, so he hoped the death toll would be low. 

 

The first thing he did every morning after he’d eaten a meagre portion of soaked oats, was visit the encampments which held those who had lived on the fringes of Winterfell. It was easier to protect, feed and keep warm the large groups of women and children when they were all in one place. At first, he had seen women shielding their children from his view and dipping their heads as he walked through the tents, likely out of a fear of the notorious Kingslayer, but eventually had begun to gain their trust and faith. 

 

By now, he knew many of the town’s residents by name and would feel a swell of pride and duty in his chest as he walked through the encampment and and saw a spattering of smiles and waves in his direction. Despite his feeling of warmth however, there was always a quiet sense of dread as he sought out Deandra, the woman who had become one of the unofficial matrons of the camp. As they tried to fight off the oncoming forces from both directions, they also had to fight off the harsh winter that enveloped them. Many of the women and children were sick, and all were hungry, sometimes they wouldn’t make it through the night. 

 

“Morning.” Jaime smiled gently as he stepped into her tent where she had a gaggle of children warming themselves by her fire. 

 

“Ser Jaime.” She nodded politely from where she stood behind the desk. He could see by the look on her face that something had happened. 

 

“The young lady I told you about yesterday.” She said softly and Jaime grimaced, recalling the young mother of five who was ill with an infection. She shook her head sadly, indicating that she had not made it through the night. 

 

“Are these her children?” Jaime asked under his breath and she nodded gently. “Gods.” He muttered, looking down at the children, none of whom could’ve been older than six. 

 

“Please see me personally for anything you need to care for these children.” He said solemnly, knowing that nothing he could do would be enough. 

 

“Is there any other news?” He asked, trying desperately not to cry. He had to show everyone he was strong. They needed a leader who could remain composed. 

 

“Nothing of note.” Deandra sighed, sitting down into the creaky chair next to her desk. She looked exhausted. 

 

“And how about you, Deandra? Are you well?” He asked softly. He knew this war was hard on everyone and he was unbelievably grateful for her assistance in the camp. He vowed to see to it that after the war she would never want for the rest of her life. She opened her mouth to reply when she stopped, her eyes drawn to the doorway of her tent. 

 

He turned round and saw Sansa standing in the entrance. He’d seen her not half an hour ago before he left the keep. Something had happened. He felt the air rush from his lungs as one thought overtook his mind. Brienne. It’s Brienne. She’s hurt. Or worse? Gods no. 

 

“Children, please come with me.” He vaguely registered Deandra saying as she ushered the children out of the tent, leaving Sansa and him to talk alone. The look on Sansa’s face gave nothing but an impending sense of dread over what she was about to tell him. 

 

“Ser Jaime, I think you should sit down.” 

 

Gods no. This couldn’t be happening. Not Brienne. He drew his hand to his mouth and stepped backwards, propping himself against the edge of the desk then nodded slightly for Sansa to continue. 

 

“Our armies in the South report that the Lannister forces are surrendering in the masses.” She said slowly. Jaime wondered briefly why she would follow him out here just to tell him that when it dawned on him. 

 

“Cersei is dead.” She told him and Jaime felt as though he’d been stabbed in the gut. 

 

Cersei. His twin. His other half. The woman who for forty fucking years he believed to be his soulmate. She was gone. She always told him that they would die together, the same way they came into the world. Now she was gone and he lived on, with his heart and soul sworn to another. It all seemed so untrue. 

 

It took a moment for the room to stop spinning before he was able to speak. 

 

“How? Who did it?” He stammered. He prayed it was not Daenarys out of a fear that he could no longer serve the Queen knowing what she’d done.

 

“Nobody, Ser. It is reported that she died in the birthing bed.” She said sadly, unrolling the note and handing it to him, but he pushed it away. He didn’t want to read the details yet. Cersei was dead. All other details were secondary. 

 

Sansa stood in silence, allowing Jaime time to gather his thoughts, which he was thankful for. The most prominent emotion that bore through the grief like a blacksmith's hammer was a sense of relief. His own sister was dead, but all he could think about was how relieved he was that it wasn’t Brienne. He felt a wave of shame at his selfishness before another though came into his mind. 

 

“The child?” He asked, dreading the answer. Sansa shook her head softly, telling him everything he needed to know. It was probably for the best. Daenerys would never have let Cersei’s child survive, at least this way he didn’t have to resent her for it. 

 

Sansa and Jaime spent a long time in silence. She moved to sit beside him on the desk and they stared into the fire. Jaime couldn’t cry, no matter how much he wanted to. He just felt numb. He was very grateful for Sansa’s understanding as she sat by his side, but he would’ve given his only hand for it to have been Brienne instead. He craved her presence now more than ever. 

 

It was unfathomable to him how in such a short amount of time she had become so much more important to him than Cersei, although he supposed when he thought about it it had begun many years before he sought her in Winterfell. Ever since he lost his hand whilst lying to protect her, he realised that he was capable of caring for someone outside of his family and since then she had unknowingly been gradually chipping away at him, causing him to understand what true, pure love was. 

 

For the first time in his life he felt an unbridled love that he wasn’t honour bound to feel. Nobody told him he must feel it. He felt no sense of kinship to her. Yet, he loved her regardless. She meant the world to him. He would’ve killed for Cersei, but he would lay down his life for Brienne. 

 

He felt a dull ache and longing in his soul for Brienne. He knew that without her, he couldn’t do this for much longer. 

 

-x- 

 

And just like that, the war was over. 

 

The surrender and subsequent reassignment of Cersei’s army had given Daenerys’ forces the final boost of strength they needed to push what little remained of the army of the dead into large clusters, making it easier to destroy them with the dragons. The Night King fell in the final battle at the hands of Jon Snow himself, earning him the adoration of most probably every living person in Westeros. He was seen as their saviour. But he didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was her. 

 

When Sansa had told him that Brienne was amongst the living and that she would be travelling to Winterfell as they spoke, Jaime sank to his knees at her feet. He felt like he may pass out from the blinding crush of relief that followed. It seemed like just yesterday. But now, he stood at the gates of Winterfell, watching the first of the soldiers filter through, desperately searching for Brienne. 

 

When he spotted that first glimpse of blonde hair towering over the men, Jaime forgot how to breathe. 

 

He rushed to where she was walking, practically pushing men out of the way and felt his lip trembling as he moved to stand in front of her. 

 

She looked awful. So much worse than he was expecting her too. All of her exposed flesh on her hands, neck and face was littered with bruised and cuts. She had one angry looking black eye and her face was gaunt. He could tell she’d lost weight, as her armour was practically hanging loose around her, which worried him deeply as she had been incredibly slender to begin with. Her hair had grown and hung limply beside her face as a cruel reminder of how long she had been away. 

 

The worst part though, was how expressionless her face was. She didn’t seem relieved to be home, or happy to see him, nor did she seem in pain or anguish. She just looked… blank? And exhausted. 

 

He swiftly crossed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her tightly, but as soon as he felt her make contact with his chest, he felt her become heavy in his arms. Her knees buckled and she collapsed into him slumping against his chest. He was about to yell for a meister when he heard her sob. A deep, guttural sob that he’d only heard a few times in his life. 

 

He slowly sank to his knees, guiding her down with him and pulling her against his chest, not caring who saw them. He then held her tightly, rocking softly for what felt like hours as the sobs shook her entire body, all the while murmuring reasurences into her hair. 

 

“You’re home now. I’ve got you. I will never let you out of my sight again.” 

 

-x- 

 

Jaime sat in the desk chair beside her bed, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest, afraid that if he looked away for even a moment it would stop. It had been two days since he had practically dragged her up to their room in Winterfell, the room that he’d spent half a year sleeping in alone, and she had been asleep ever since. 

 

He checked on her periodically, rousing her from her sleep to bring a cup of water to her lips every few hours, but other than that all he could do was watch over her. He knew that soon he would have to wake her properly so that she could eat, but the meister who had been visiting daily to check for any signs of illness or infection assured him that she was okay to stay asleep. It broke his heart when he heard tales from the battlefield about how she’d gone days at a time without sleeping, insisting she had to keep watch in the camp. 

 

What little sleep Jaime had gotten in the past two days had been huddled in blankets and sitting in the chair beside the bed. He longed to hold her, but she looked so fragile he feared that one wrong shift in the night could injure her greatly. Instead of worrying about his own lack of sleep, he busied himself with using a damp rag to clean her wounds and wash her hair. He thought about cutting her hair back to its original length, but he quickly changed his mind as he didn’t want her to wake up and see him looming over her with a blade. 

 

As she slept he gazed affectionately at her face. Some of the bruises and swelling had done down significantly in the past two days and she was starting to look like herself under the cuts and bruises that remained. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. His brave, glorious warrior. Anyone who had been on the field with her spoke wonders of her voraciousness, strength and valiance and it caused immeasurable amounts of pride in his chest. 

 

He was roused from his thoughts as he saw Brienne’s eyes scrunching slightly as she stirred. He leant over and grabbed the water incase she was about to wake up. When he turned back he saw a glimpse of her dazzling blue eyes and couldn’t help the soft grin that spread across his face. 

 

She shook her head softly when he offered her the water and he gave her a few minutes to pull herself from the hazy fog of sleep. 

 

“Hi.” She whispered softly. Before she’d even fully opened her eyes her hand emerged from under the blankets, searching for his, which he accepted gladly. The lump in his throat due to the joy he felt at hearing her voice was enough to prevent him from speaking, so he drew her hand up to his face and gave her a soft kiss on her bruised knuckles. 

 

“How long have I been asleep?” She said with a small yawn, shifting to lay on her side and face him. 

 

“About two days now.” He managed, turning her hand and dropping gentle kisses into her palm. She yawned and closed her eyes for a long time, and Jaime thought she may have been about to go back to sleep until she opened one eye to look at him. 

 

“What are you doing over there?” She murmured, the sound of exhaustion thick in her voice. 

 

Taking that as an invitation, Jamie toed off his boots and peeled back the bed covers before laying down beside her. He lay on his side facing her and brought his hand up to stroke her cheek gently. 

 

“Go back to sleep.” He told her as he could see she was fighting to keep her eyes open. 

 

“I want to see you.” She yawned and he understood completely. They’d been apart for so many torturous months he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from her. He knew that she was likely feeling the same as him, that this all seemed too good to be true. There was a sense of disbelief that it was finally over. 

 

“Shut your eyes. I will be here when you wake up.” He told her softly. 

 

-x- 

 

After almost another day of sleep, Brienne had finally woken up enough to sit up in bed and take some food. It seemed as though despite the absence of any ailment, the relief following the end of the war had caused her body to shut down. She was exhausted and frail, but she was on the mend and the colour gradually returned to her cheeks each day. 

 

Jaime sat by her side the entire time, leaving only to relieve himself or to bring food and water to their room. Many, many people asked after Brienne, which caused him to realise how lucky he was to be with a woman who so many people truly admired and cared for. 

 

They didn’t talk about their experiences during the war. It was just too difficult for both of them. She’d seen countless men fall, some of whom had done so to protect her, and he’d had to experience the deaths of many of the women and children under his care. Despite the fact that they’d given the war everything they had to give, both felt as though they should've done more. 

 

The night when he’d finally told her about the death of her father was one that he wished he could wipe from his memory. She didn’t speak for a very long time and eventually Jaime had succumbed to sleep, only to wake up hours later to the soft sound of Brienne crying and the feel of her damp tears against his neck. After that night, they avoided talking about the war or the subsequent death of many great men and women they knew, and instead talked about all the things they never had the chance to before. 

 

Jaime lay, propped up slightly on pillows with Brienne’s head against his chest as she told him all about what her childhood on Tarth had been like, about how she’d trained as a fighter and raised through the ranks of Renly's army. He stroked her hair tenderly as she told him how afraid she’d been as he rode away from Harrenhal, and how she realised in that moment that it wasn’t a fear for her own life, but a fear over the realisation that she’d fallen in love with him.

 

In return he told her of some of the few moments of happiness from his life that weren’t clouded by memories of Cersei, like the first time him and Tyrion drank wine together and ended up throwing up on an almost invaluable silk rug in Casterly Rock. He also told her that he truly believed she had changed his life and he was a better man because of her. 

 

They stole a few kisses as they huddled against each other. They were chaste, yet full of passion. One or twice she had attempted to kiss him with a little more vigor, but he could hear her laboured breathing and feel her trembling lips, so he’d guided her back down to lay on the pillows with whispered promises that there would be time for that once she was better. 

 

It was painful for Jaime to do, since his entire body craved her right to his core, but he was done rushing with her. The war was over. They could take their time and allow their first night together to be so much more than an exhausted, uncoordinated attempt at something that could be so glorious. 

 

-x- 

 

On the seventh day, Jaime had received a summons from Jon Snow and was forced to leave Brienne in bed in their room. She had been a lot more talkative of late, and had been getting up to change and bathe herself, which seemed like great progress, but she still rarely ventured outside of the room. Not to mention that her exhaustion fuelled periods of deep sleep appeared to be over and she couldn’t sleep for long without being awoken by a nightmare. There was still a long road of recovery ahead, Jaime suspected. 

 

He trudged down to the great hall where Jon waited and prayed that the meeting wouldn’t take too long as didn’t like to be away from Brienne’s side. When he entered the room he had expected for it to be full of men, so had been surprised when Jon was the only man in the room. 

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Jaime said, as warmly as he could manage as he walked into the room. Him and Jon had never particularly seen eye to eye, but he had no reason to be uncivil with him. All of that was in the past. Jaime hadn’t been keeping up with the post war politics, all he knew that Daenerys would be ruling and likely with Jon at her side. He didn’t really care much, everything came second to Brienne. 

 

“The Queen is in King’s Landing establishing her rule there as we speak.”Jon said with no pretense, which Jaime was grateful for. He nodded for Jon to continue. 

 

“She has many men loyal to her, but she would like an officially sworn in Queen’s Guard.” Jon told him, and Jaime felt his hands go clammy as he could sense where this was going.

 

“She has personally requested both yourself and Lady Brienne to become knights of the guard.” Jon told him, and Jaime’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

 

“Lady Brienne, I understand, but why me?” He stammered. 

 

“My reaction was the same, I can assure you, Ser Jaime.” Jon told him with a soft smile. “You are an accomplished knight and you guarded Winterfell vallantly.” 

 

Jaime felt as though the room were spinning on account of the thoughts whirring around his head. He thought he would never be knight again and as for Brienne, this would be like a dream come true. Nobody deserved knighthood more than her. 

 

But it would come at a cost. 

 

He needed to see Brienne. 

 

“Your Grace, may I take a day to consider?” Jaime asked hesitantly. He knew that it would be unwise to reject Daenerys, but he had to talk to Brienne first. 

 

Jon nodded slowly but a look of concern crossed his face. “I advise that you don’t take too long in making your decision, Ser.” 

 

After politely excusing himself, Jaime practically sprinted back to the room he shared with Brienne, thinking about what it would mean for them both to be knighted. He didn’t knock on the door, but pushed it open slowly incase she was changing or bathing. When he opened the door he saw that she was sat up in bed and looked far brighter than she had on any day since she had been back from the war, which he was grateful for given the nature of the conversation they were about to have. 

 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, looking concerned. He cursed the fact that she could clearly pick up on his thinly veiled aura of worry. 

 

He smiled softly to reassure her and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to her. “Everything is fine. I just met with Jon.” He said, placing his hand over hers as she straightened up slightly. He took a deep breath before he continued. 

 

“Daenerys has requested our presence in her Queensguard.” He told her, watching closely. Her eyes went wide in surprise, but she didn’t smile, telling him everything he needed to know. 

 

“It is a great honour.” She said softly, looking away from his face. “What do you think?” 

 

“I won’t accept.” He told her and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I’m exhausted. For years all I’ve known is pain and suffering and death. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t think there’s any fight left in me.” 

 

Jaime knew that the country as now technically at peace, but there may be a string of uprisings and protest as the Queen settled in to power. He also knew that she didn’t truly need protection as she had two dragons and hundreds of thousands of men, and that her request was purely political in nature in order to secure the houses of Tarth and Lannister. But Jaime was done with the fighting and the politics.

 

Brienne looked over at where Oathkeeper lay on her desk and then looked back at him, her eyes looking nervous and unsure. “All my life I have trained to fight and to serve. I don’t know what else I would do if I declined.” She said sadly and Jaime knew the answer instantly. 

 

“Marry me?” He blurted out, with no thought as to a romantic preamble, he just needed to say those two words as quickly as possible. 

 

“What?” She stammered, her eyes flaring wide and an utterly adorable blush creeping up her cheeks. 

 

“The Stark girls are safe and in their rightful home. The war is over. You have no duty here.” He told her, scrambling to get the words out before she could say no. “I know you don’t want to serve Daenerys.” He added softly. 

 

Brienne shook her head softly and pulled away and Jaime felt as though his heart may break. “No, please don’t say no.” He practically begged, cupping her cheek in his hand and gently urging her to look at him. 

 

“Jaime, I am not fit to be a wife.” She shook her head, pulling away from him. “I will never become the type of woman who crochets and tends to the garden, or takes tea in the afternoon with her giggling maids.” He told him firmly and Jaime almost had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

 

“Brienne is that what you think wives do?” He said, smiling affectionately and pulling her closer to him.  She still refused to look at him so he continued. “Well, that’d not what you’d do, I can assure you. We’d move to Tarth and spend our days-”

 

“Tarth?” She asked, cutting him off mid sentence. Jaime smiled as it appeared he might be getting somewhere. 

 

“Of course, where else?” He smiled but a look of worry crossed her face. 

 

“I’m not sure how the residents of Tarth would react to a Lannister as the Evenstar.” She said with concern. 

 

“As the what?” Jaime laughed. 

 

“Oh.” Brienne said, blushing as she realised he didn’t understand what she had said. “The Evenstar is the Lord of Tarth.” She explained and Jaime grinned shaking his head. 

 

“Brienne I don’t want to be the Evenstar. I don’t even want to be a Lannister. I’ll renounce my claim to all of it. I just want to be yours.” He admitted, his voice trembling slightly at the vulnerability. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything so much in his life. She stared at him, her huge, beautiful blue eyes wide with emotion. 

 

“We could train our children with the sword?” He smirked, nudging her slightly and she smiled. 

 

“Children?” She asked, quirking her eyebrow in surprise. 

 

“Of course.” He grinned. “But only if that’s what you want.” He added quickly. 

 

“That’s quite a fantasy you’ve created, Jaime.” She blushed, shaking her head but he caught her chin and pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. 

 

“It doesn’t have to be a fantasy.” He whispered, tilting her face so that he could look into her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again but then her lips were on his. 

 

This was unlike the chaste kisses they’d shared whilst she’d been back from war. No, this kiss felt like a flame engulfing Jaime’s soul. He tried to match her passion but she kissed with the burning fury of a warrior, her tongue powerful and firm against his. There was no question as to who would dominate the kiss, he simply relented to her, allowing her to set the pace and guide his head with her strong, gripping fingers. 

 

When she paused for breath he took the opportunity to pull back slightly and rest his forehead against hers. “Marry me?” He whispered breathlessly, but before replying she pulled him back down into another kiss. 

 

The kiss was gentler this time, but he nibbled gently on her bottom lip, relishing in the soft moan that followed. Although, realising he still hadn’t had had his answer, he pulled back and ghosted his lips over hers. She tried to join their lips but he moved away. 

 

“Marry me?” He whispered into her lips, winding his left arm around her waist. Her face broke into a soft grin and her tongue danced over her teeth, but still she didn’t say the words. She was going to make him work for it. 

 

Swiftly yet gently, he pushed her back into the pillows so that she lay under him and he propped himself up on his elbow beside her head. He made her think he was going to kiss her again, but at the last moment dropped his lips to her jaw and trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. He buried himself in the crook of her neck, where he had spent many long nights asleep in her comforting embrace, then alternated between kissing, nibbling and sucking at the skin there. 

 

“Marry me, my one true love?” He growled against her neck and she laughed, which Jaime decided in that moment was his favourite sound. 

 

He pulled back to look at her, dishevelled and panting beneath him, waiting for her reply. 

 

“Yes, Jaime. I will marry you.”

 

-x-

 

They married two days later. 

 

There was no planning, no extravagance, no party. Just them and the septon in the howling wind by the lake outside of Winterfell. The only reason they hadn’t been married on the day following Jaime’s proposal was so that they could formally decline Daenerys’ offer to join her Queensguard and swear the allegiance of House Tarth to the Iron Throne. 

 

The ceremony was perfect. It couldn’t have lasted more than 15 minutes, and both Jaime and Brienne had been reluctant to say anything overly emotionally in front of the septon they had met that evening, but it was one of the happiest moments of Jaime’s life. 

 

He had always resigned himself to the fact that he would never marry, and she had thought the same of herself, and now, though it had only been a few hours, he couldn’t imagine a world where he was not bound to her before the gods. They had just arrived back into their bedroom in Winterfell, after Jaime had taken her by the hand and pulled her through the halls with a childlike excitement, and now he watched her shaking the damp snowflakes from her hair as she attempted to warm herself by the fire. 

 

When they’d first met, he’d called her ugly, a monster, barely a woman, but he’d been a fool, for clearly she was the most gorgeous woman alive. Her cropped blonde hair lit up like strands of sunlight at it reflected the light from the fire and it was the perfect length for him to bury his left hand in. The scars that littered her skin, that would likely never heel, told the glorious story of her honour and triumph on the battlefield. And her body. Gods, that body would drive Jaime wild for the rest of his life. Her skin was soft and delicate enough to shudder at his loving touch, but she had the physical strength to overpower him in a heartbeat. There would never be another woman on this earth who could compare. 

 

She must’ve noticed him staring as she blushed feverishly as she untied her cloak. 

 

“Stop looking at me like that.” She muttered shyly, turning from his gaze, but Jaime was by her side with his arms around her waist in an instant. 

 

“You’re my wife.” He whispered close to her ear and felt her shudder. “I will spend the rest of my life looking at you like that.” He said, tickling her side causing her face to break into a soft, bashful smile. 

 

“I adore you.” He told her as he pulled her into their first kiss as husband and wife. 

 

He peppered her face and neck with kisses and dragged her towards the bed as she squirmed with laughter. When his legs hit the back of the bed he, rather ungracefully, pulled her down on top of him and they landed with a thud.

 

“Did I hurt you?” She asked, pulling away and scanning his face with concern, but he brought his hand up to cup her cheek tenderly.

 

“I’m strong enough.” He told her, his eyes burning into hers. They were both strong enough. Against all odds, they’d survived the war. They’d stayed strong for one another. And now they would hold each other up with that strength for the rest of their lives. 

 

Jaime felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyes but he quickly blinked them away, now wasn’t the time for tears, now was the time for ravishing his new bride.

 

Even though they had been intimate with one another before they war, they had agreed to wait until their wedding night to do it again. Partly so that it would be more special, but mostly to give Brienne a little more time to recover from her post-war exhaustion. Although they had done their fair share of passionate kissing since the night he’d proposed. 

 

It had been so long since Jaime had kissed for kissing sake, rather than what he viewed as a formality in the build up to sex, but he could’ve kissed Brienne for hours on end. She’d never kissed anyone but him before, but despite her lack of experience she was a quick learner and knew how to perfectly glide her tongue against his. He was in awe at how it all seemed so natural. 

 

Quickly, Jaime pulled Brienne towards him and they scrambled further up the bed to where they needed to be. Once there, he wasted no time in reconnecting his lips with hers, but this time, he had anything but innocent intentions. 

 

As they kissed he dragged his hand up her side, grazing her breast, then brought it up to he laces holding her tunic together. He fumbled for a moment with his left hand, so was incredibly grateful when she brought up her own hands to help without him having to ask. 

 

Once he’d rid her of her tunic, his lips returned to her neck, kissing a trail down to her breast where he tentatively grazed his lips over her nipple. Last time they’d done this it had been far too rushed for Jaime’s liking, there had been no time for him to give her body the worship it deserved. This time he was going to make every moment count. 

 

She whimpered softly, encouraging him, and so he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before grazing her gently with his teeth. She writhed beneath him with one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping his bicep, spurring him onward. 

 

He continued his trail of kisses downwards, over the incredibly toned, muscular plane of her stomach and towards the hem of her breeches. When he reached the edge of the fabric he looked back up at her but she had her head thrown back in bliss. He’d expected her to be confused, but then again she had spent her whole life living amongst men, so he suspected she had an idea of what he was about to do. 

 

He then unlaced the loose bow which held her breeches up with his left hand and shimmied the fabric over her hips, grateful when she rose up from the bed slightly to make it easier for him. Once her clothing was removed he took a moment to marvel at her glory, raking his eyes over every inch of her body. Then, he knelt between her legs and began to drop soft, open mouthed kisses onto her inner thigh.

 

When his lips finally reached the place he sought, the sound that escaped her lips was nothing less than heavenly. She wound her hands into his hair and pulled him closer. She was unafraid to make clear exactly what she needed. After a few minutes he brought up his hand in order to make use of his talented fingers and the sound she made was almost enough to have Jaime finished before the act had begun.

 

Only minutes later she was moaning his name and shuddering around him, indicating he had achieved his goal. With that, he crawled back up the length of her body, kissing every inch of skin he passed on the way. When he reached her face he pressed his forehead against hers, looking with satisfaction at the soft grin on her face. 

 

“Are you ready to go on?” He said close to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe gently for good measure. She nodded breathlessly, moving her hands delicately to his hips. Needing no further encouragement, he slowly pushed into her. This wasn’t their first time, so he didn’t need to be as delicate, but it had been a while and her body was still fragile from the war, so he took care to be slow. 

 

He gave a few slow gentle thrusts to allow her to adjust to him, then, taking her gripping fingers as an indication she was ready for more, he picked up his speed and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. 

 

Jaime was convinced that if sex with Brienne were to be like this every time, he would never leave this bed again. He pushed away the intrusive thoughts, berating him for the fact that he could’ve been doing this his for his entire life, and focused on the present. He was married to, quite literally, the woman of his dreams, as he had dreamt of her on many many occasions over the years. The war was over. They were free, unburdened by houses and honour and oaths. They were free to live. 

 

He willed himself not to cry as he spilled inside of her as the emotions bubbled up inside of him. He withdrew slowly and lay down on the beside her. He was about to draw her into his chest when she opened up her arms and beckoned him towards her. Somehow, she knew exactly what he needed. He lay with his head against her chest with her strong, protective arms around him and listened to the steady thump of her heart. 

 

“It still doesn’t feel real.” She whispered and he couldn’t agree more. How could the gods have blessed him so? What could he possibly have done to deserve such happiness? 

 

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at her face, grinning at her and she grinned back. 

 

“We got married today.” He smirked, dropping a kiss on the end of her nose. “And soon we will move to Tarth where I will be forever known as the happiest Kingslayer that ever lived.” He laughed as she frowned at his use of the hated nickname.

 

“I never thought I would return to Tarth, much less with a husband.” She said after a few minutes. “Do you think it will feel strange to leave everything behind.?” She asked and he could understand her anxiety. Neither of them had ever dared to think this far ahead, it was bound to be scary. 

 

“I’m not leaving anything. Everything I have is right here.” He said, squeezing her tightly for emphasis . They settled into a comfortable silence after that, intertwining their fingers and tracing delicate patterns over one another, but Jaime had an awful thought that he just couldn’t shake. 

 

He thought about all the women and children that had been under his care, many of whom had been widowed or orphaned during the war. He thought about everyone who unlike him, had been left with nothing. It filled his stomach with a dreadful feeling of guilt. Was leaving truly the right thing to do? He couldn’t bring it up as he knew how excited Brienne was to go home, so he lay in silence, contemplating his thoughts. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair and stroking his scalp soothingly. He thought about denying that anything was wrong, but she knew him far too well to let him get away with not telling her what was on his mind. 

 

“I just feel bad for all the children under my care who were orphaned during the war. I can’t help but wonder what will happen to them.” He shrugged. It was still winter, rations were still low, he imagined a great deal of them would die. 

 

“Would you have them all join us on Tarth?” She teased, tickling his side. “I don’t think Evenfall Hall is large enough for all of us.” 

 

He knew she was joking, but in Jaime’s defence, she really shouldn’t have put the idea into his head. He pulled away from her and sat up in bed, then quirked his eyebrow questioningly. She caught onto his meaning instantly and sat up too, eyes wide in shock. 

 

“You can’t be serious?” She laughed, but the laughter fell as Jaime nodded his head and took her hand in his. 

 

“Okay, so maybe not in Evenfall Hall, but we could bring the orphaned children with us to Tarth. We could provide housing and education. Plenty of women have been left widowed, I’m sure we could bring them too, as staff, and give them a fair wage.” Jaime babbled, his thoughts running away from him. 

 

“I don’t know how much, if any, of the Lannister wealth remains but I’m sure that I could-“ He said excitedly, attempting to do some crude calculations in his head. 

 

“My family has wealth.” She cut him off and he beamed at her. Gods she was actually on board with this insane plan of his. “It’s not as much as the Lannisters, and there’s certainly no sapphires” She added with a smirk, “but there’s more than you and I could ever have use for.”

 

“Are you saying yes?” He asked with a new found animation in his voice. 

 

“I’m saying we may have options.” She contended with a grin and he gazed with awe at his truly selfless wife. 

 

Jaime realised in an instant that this felt so much better than leaving without addressing his responsibilities as a carer ever would’ve done. Sure, it would likely end up taking them much longer to get to Tarth on account of all the preparations what would need to be made, but it was the perfect was to honour their deeply held sense of duty whilst retaining their freedom to leave.

 

Five days later, after many, many hours of calculations and reassurances between the two that they were doing the right thing, Jaime stood by his wife’s side as she, the virtuous Evenstar of Tarth, announced to the room that Tarth would become a place of refuge for any child orphaned during the war. 

 

Jaime had to hold back the tears on account of the pride he felt during that moment. For once, he’d gotten it right. He’d married the perfect woman and together they’d made the right choice. The honourable, courageous, selfless choice. 

 

Brienne of Tarth. His captor. His confidant. His friend. His lover. His wife. She had changed his life. She’d allowed him to become the man that he always knew, deep down, that he was capable of being. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me if you’ve managed it this far! This is officially the longest fic that I’ve ever written, so please feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> Also, in chapters 1-3 I tried to stay true to the GoT style of bleak angst with slight glimpses of hope, but I think I owed it to myself to write a little optimistic fluff before season 8 comes out and likely crushes my soul... so sorry if this chapter is slightly outside the tone of the first three!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! I’ve just started writing on here and I’d love to write more if anyone enjoys my work. Also I have nobody to proofread so please excuse any typos.


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